Like a good ol' southern potluck, South of Midnight had me going back to play for seconds, and then thirds, thanks to all its little details

It’s rare for me to replay a new game more than once. Usually, a second run only happens out of obligation—work demands, or the magnetic pull of nostalgia for old RPGs. Anything beyond that is an exception. That’s why it says a lot that I’ve played Compulsion Games’ gothic action-adventure South of Midnight three separate times over the past eight months.

To be clear, only one of those playthroughs was required for review. The second came purely from personal curiosity, and the third happened because a friend wanted to watch. Each time I restarted the journey, I found some small, easy-to-miss detail that deepened my appreciation for Hazel’s story and pulled me right back into its haunting vision of the American South.

The magic is in the minutiae. South of Midnight feels fantastical and grounded all at once, something I sensed immediately during the opening moments as Hazel prepares for an approaching hurricane. But it wasn’t until Chapter 3 that a stronger sense of familiarity crept in—a place that felt achingly real, though I couldn’t quite place it at first.

On my second playthrough, the truth hit me while examining eviction notices plastered across a decaying community. Every order had been issued by the Chickasaw County court, a small area in northeast Mississippi. It’s the kind of place you rarely see referenced unless you grew up nearby—and suddenly, the setting felt deeply personal.

It reminded me of summers spent in nearby counties, places marked by poverty, neglect, and quiet resilience. These were communities where eviction notices felt almost cruelly redundant, yet still painfully real. That authenticity only revealed itself when I slowed down and looked closely.

Another moment came later, when Hazel reunites with neighbors seeking hurricane relief at a local church. Scribbled on the boat that brought them there is a simple phrase: “Cajun Navy.” It’s an informal name for volunteer rescue efforts, popularized after Hurricane Katrina, and a symbol of communities saving themselves when institutions fail them.

Seeing that reference stopped me in my tracks—not because it was flashy, but because someone cared enough to include it. South of Midnight is filled with these quiet truths, hidden in corners and background details, waiting for players who take the time to notice.

Like a good Southern potluck, the game rewards those who linger. Every return trip revealed another small story, another lived-in detail, and another reason to fall in love with Hazel’s journey all over again.